Just a Young Heart
by Miss-murdered
Summary: Quatre has spent six years upholding his father's legacy at Winner Enterprises but through a conversation with Duo, he begins to question what he really wants to do with his life. 3x4, side 1x2 and hints of past 2x4. One shot.


Disclaimer: I don't own the GW characters – am just borrowing to torment for my amusement

Warnings: Swearing, yaoi, implied sexual relationships, sapness?

Pairings: 3x4, 1x2 and hints of past 2x4 (oh and a very tiny mention of 5xS – blink and you miss it!)

Beta: ellewrites

A/N: This is another little one shot that crept up on me as I complete Domino – a little character piece on Quatre and Duo's friendship that stemmed from a conversation with ellewrites as I complained how Quatre is my least favourite pilot to write and how I'm not all too keen on 3x4 despite loving Trowa. So my muse wanted to prove something it seemed… Inspired by the song Young Heart by We are the Ocean.

**Just a Young Heart**

"Apologies, Mr. Winner but I thought you needed to hear this…"

"The bid from Cobalt Mining is better?"

"We can try to repackage the bid but really we require your input to do that… we believe it may be something about your recent… press."

"Daniels, please be upfront."

"Ahh, well, Mr. Winner… with the revelations about your private life and your," the young personal assistant on the other end of the phone line coughed, "dealings with Mr. Barton… well, it seems that Mr. Chase is a very traditional man and that affiliation with, your more _alternative_ lifestyle might not be the direction the project wants."

"What do the board say?"

"The board are… the board thinks you should cut short your vacation and host a press conference. Deny the accusations and try to placate the traditionalists in the company as well as Chase Inc.… Victor Chase is a very strong ally, Mr. Winner, if we can retain him."

Quatre took a deep breath and tried not to sound angry with the messenger. It was not Daniels' fault – that he was very aware of as he stood seething on the edge of a beautiful lake as the sun began to set. He should not be standing, wanting to scream down a cell phone right now – he should be in the cabin, upholding the promise of not answering said phone and ignoring all technology.

"Daniels, I will call you tomorrow."

"Sir? Are you returning?"

"I'll call you tomorrow," he repeated.

"What shall I report to the board?"

"Whatever you like, Daniels."

There was a moment that he could still hear the voice of his young personal assistant but then the phone was hurtling through the air and falling into the lake with an audible splash. It had not gone as far as he would've expected but still, it was satisfying. He was tempted to scream – what was it called – Primal Screaming? Some kind of bullshit thing he'd sent some employees on as a team building exercise – the senior management and he'd gone as well and it was mildly amusing. Right now he felt he could scream at the lake. At the world. At the ruined vacation. At the now severely pissed off Trowa he would have to deal with.

"What did the phone do to you, Quat?"

He turned, realising he had not noticed the stealthy footsteps of an infiltration expert. Duo had one eyebrow raised and was holding two beers. For a second, he was purely glad it was not Trowa. He had been annoyed when he'd scanned the business news. He had been even more annoyed that he felt he needed to ring the office. And he was going to be even more annoyed now that the office had rung back with the news.

"Business."

"Same shit different day?"

"Not quite."

Duo offered the beer and plunked himself down on the grass beside where Quatre stood. He took the beer and decided to sit beside him. He twisted the cap of the beer and took an experimental sip – he really wasn't a big drinker. He drank scotch occasionally as there were certain things expected of him in business deals and he drank wine when being forced to schmooze at fancy restaurants but rarely, if ever, recreationally. He supposed it was to be expected with Duo that there would be beer and for once, he was very grateful for it and would quite enjoy getting his blood alcohol level higher.

"You wanna talk?"

"You want to listen?"

"Not really, you know I don't really get the business shit. Why I refused your offer. I like the Preventers, here's a gun, here's who you need to shoot - now go! Easy."

Quatre smiled and took another sip, his eyes scanning the expanse of the lake. It really was beautiful here. Meant to be the vacation none of them had ever taken. Meant to be no laptops, no cell phones and no business news. Just the four of them – the two ex-pilot couples doing something normal couples who were friends did – go on vacation and enjoy it. That now seemed a long lost idealistic dream.

"Chase Inc. are pulling out of a deal with us due to the revelations about my private life."

Duo whistled under his breath. "No shit."

"Yeah, shit."

He received a deep chuckle for the swear word. "Cuss words still sound wrong on you."

"Obviously spent too much time around you over the years."

"That is very true, buddy, very true."

The gentle tap on the back that accompanied his words was reassuring. There was always something about being around Duo that made him feel calmer somehow. For someone who at times could be so manic, so seemingly insane and reckless, Duo was perhaps the only one who could be an odd calming influence and bring down his usually far too high blood pressure. Easier than forcing a conversation on Trowa who was sick of Winner Enterprises.

Quatre took another sip of the beer and glanced over at his closest friend. The six years since the war had changed them all and Duo was no exception. The braid still trailed down his back, the scars visible from too many losing battles on his forearms, the smile still fixed but there was the slight reluctance to trust. They'd all had their share of moments post-war where they'd suffered prejudices and moments of their pasts haunting them. They'd never be free from what they had done and who they were. Duo had those few stupid arrests, the few moments of calling and needing bail money and lawyers before he'd gone into the Preventers and found his footing. There had always been the pouting in the jail cell, the attempt at innocence and blaming the other guy. The problem had been that it usually was the other guy who had started it but it was always Duo that finished it which usually meant they had ended up in the worse condition. Now he was calmer, he'd matured a little, the influence of Heero's steady presence visible in his demeanour. Still far too energetic but just steadier, more sure of who he was. Six years had done a lot.

"Do you think we should have invited Wufei?" Quatre said, quietly, stretching his legs out.

"Naw, I get enough of my work wife at work, damn it, don't think I can see him on vacation."

"Work wife?"

"Yeah, he hates it," Duo said with a flick of his wrist. "He and Sally are… you know."

Quatre blinked and looked at Duo's face which had just one eyebrow raised suggestively.

"You know, doing the horizontal tango, the nasty… fucking."

"He told _you_?"

"Yeah, we were on a surveillance job and it just… came up. It's an arrangement."

"Arrangement?"

"Jesus, is there an echo here, Q? Yeah, an arrangement… she says he's too immature for her so they just have sex."

"And he told you that?"

"Yeah – he may have been severely sleep deprived at the time, but, hey, he did…"

"I just don't… quite see it."

"Yeah… but most people don't see me and Heero working so I figure, let's not judge other people's shit, you know."

They remained in silence for a while, beers nearly finished.

"You were arguing," Quatre said finally.

"He brought his fucking laptop."

Quatre nodded, knowing it explained everything. Duo was silent for a few moments, staring out at the water and fiddling with the label of the beer bottle absently.

"It's not like I don't get it Q… it's just I wish he could accept that taking some time away with me is not gonna be the moment that a bunch of terrorists try and kill her, you know? I just wish he was, like, present, you know. Here. Not thinking about who's on the team and who's doing their job and just be like, here."

"I think you and Trowa should talk. I believe his argument about me would be the same."

"He's really pissed?"

The blond nodded. "Yes. You can tell. He talks less and he glares."

"Really? He can talk less?"

"Funny."

"I'm a joke a minute."

Quatre took a final sip of the beer and started to make a slight indent in the ground beside him with the bottom of the bottle. The sun was starting dip and the sunset would beautiful across the lake. This was what the vacation was supposed to about – beautiful location, secluded cabin, fishing, swimming, talking, enjoying the company of friends and of a lover. Nothing seemed to happen as planned.

"Life would have been easier if we'd worked."

The words had left Quatre's mouth before he realised he'd spoken. He turned to look at Duo who simply didn't return his gaze and looked towards the lake.

"Sorry – I didn't –" he blustered but Duo cut him off.

"Yeah, maybe, I guess, less drama."

Duo was holding the beer bottle loosely in his long fingers, the contents finished.

"I'm sure Winner Enterprises woulda had more problems with a L2 street kid than they'll have with Tro's past. Probably make me into a gold-digger or something."

"Did you ever tell Heero?"

"Hell no! Plus we weren't, like, totally together then anyway. He was going through his 'I don't want you for anything other than sex' bullshit period and I didn't owe him shit at that point." He brushed aside a bang of hair from his face, the beer bottle discarded, label mostly peeled away. "Plus I kinda like retaining all relevant parts of my anatomy. You tell Tro?"

"No... he'd gone back to Catherine… so I never did," he said with a shrug.

"We wouldn't have worked in the long term, Quat. Just woulda been some fling or somethin'. I like my men in spandex with fucked up saving-the-princess complexes. Must be a kink."

They sat, the sun light changing and rippling water reflecting the colours in the sky.

"Maybe we should go back, you apologise to Tro, I force Heero to realise he's being a douche and eat something."

"I want to stay for a bit longer."

"You want me to stay?"

He nodded. "I just want to think…"

"Is that your polite way of telling me to shut up?"

"Maybe."

Quatre tried not to smirk as Duo fidgeted beside him, moving legs and arms until deciding that he'd lie flat on his back and then deciding that wasn't the position he wanted to be in and changing his mind. It had never suited Duo to be quiet and still.

The sun finally set, the blues and purples of an early evening sky reminding Quatre of the beauty of the earth that they fought for – all the lives they'd taken, all the sacrifices made, were indeed worth it for a moment of tranquility on earth. The company was on his mind, the stupid contracts and negotiations and upholding the traditional values of the Winner way. The fact that in order to continue to run Winner Enterprises as expected he'd have to renounce the man he loved – the man he loved despite being in a pissy mood, hiding in the cabin. Maybe it was time. Time to admit he wasn't his father's son. Maybe he could do something else. The thought was scary but he was young. Young enough to start again.

"Do you ever feel like you disappointed someone?"

"Huh?"

"I sometimes think that I am not the Winner heir that was expected. I'm not the ruthless businessman willing to step on everyone to get where I need to be. I am not willing to stand up in front of cameras and tell the world that Trowa is a friend and associate not the man I love. I just think if my father were here…" he paused, searching for words. "I'd be a disappointment."

He could tell Duo was thinking. Duo's finger had found the end of his braid and he was fiddling it between his fingers. Quatre had observed the action before – only done when remembering his past.

"Sometimes, I guess, I think of my time in the church and what they'd think of what I've done… what I do…" he said, quietly, voice barely above a whisper. "And then I figure that they're dead, you know, and I made the best of the hand I got dealt and yeah, fucking a guy ain't the most Catholic thing and killing people ain't gonna please the God they believed in and shit but… I had to work out _me_. You gotta work out who you wanna be Quat… figure out if you wanna be the big shot businessman or maybe… not. We're young. Time to make mistakes." He stopped for a moment. "I did."

The words made sense and Quatre rose to his feet, picking up the beer bottle and approaching the edge of the water, briefly looking at his reflection and then glancing back towards the cabin.

"You give good advice."

Duo had risen to his feet and stood beside him. "Why do people have to be so shocked? Alas, nobody appreciates my genius," he said melodramatically.

"I think Heero appreciates you for something."

At least Duo had the sense to look ever so slightly guilty for the noise level. "Yeah, and I'm sure I heard Trowa growl… does he really growl naturally or is that just something that turns you on?"

Quatre shook his head in a minor moment of embarrassment and smiled. "I think we need to vacation somewhere with thicker walls next year."

"There'll be a next year?"

"I think so… maybe. Can I have a moment alone, Duo?"

"Yeah, sure, buddy. I'll see if Heero's figured out why I'm pissed."

"I'm sure Trowa will have explained," Quatre said, watching Duo walk back to the cabin, empty beer bottles in hand, and for a second he thought about shouting and asking for whatever make up session was going to happen to be kept in the confines of their room but Duo was already half way there.

It probably wouldn't do any good anyway.

With a small smile, he imagined the panic at Winner Enterprises as he was now entirely unavailable – the phone on the floor of the lake, languishing in sediment and useless. And quite frankly, he didn't care. Duo was right. He was still young, he'd tried six years and he hated the obligations, the conversations with men he could barely stand and the battles with the board. Quatre ran a finger through his hair. In many ways, he'd become more like his father but it wasn't what he wanted. Not really who he wanted to become. There were sisters who had gone to business school. Sisters who gave a damn and he could leave them to deal with the irritating men and the constant demands. Sisters with normal husbands and adorable children.

"Father… I need to stop living up to your legacy and find my own place."

The words faltered on the still air and he suddenly registered another presence. He supposed perhaps he needed to have his hearing checked or maybe not spend so much of his time with people whose expertise was stealth and infiltration.

"They're making up."

Trowa didn't need to say anymore. He was avoiding eye contact, green eyes looking up towards the clear sky above and towards the lake. They were both not very good at making up. Sometimes Quatre wished their relationship had the simplicity of the Yuy-Maxwell relationship where everything seemed to be solved, however, briefly, with sex – on whatever available surface. But he always supposed they needed the constant fighting, the push and pull, the break and bend as it was in their natures. But Trowa and him... they weren't quite like that. More cautious. Too much between them – reticence caused by guilt and near death.

"I threw the phone into the lake," Quatre offered as a way of apology.

"I saw."

They stood alongside one another for a moment until Quatre felt the tension break as Trowa stood behind him, wrapping strong arms around his body, his lips against his left ear.

"Your father wouldn't want you to be unhappy."

The soft whisper of words made Quatre shiver – and not from cold. "I will have the task of working out a successor. I believe whatever happens most of my sisters will be unhappy."

"Let them fight it out."

"You've met enough of my sisters to know that would be a blood bath."

There was a quiet chuckle. Something that so rarely seemed to happen.

"What will you do?" Trowa asked quietly.

"We can run away to the circus."

"Then we'd have Catherine."

Quatre gave a small laugh of his own. "I don't know… I'm young. I'll figure it out."

He turned his body in Trowa's arms, looking up only a little, glad that his height in adulthood nearly equaled that of his lover.

"How long until the cabin will be safe to enter?"

Trowa shrugged. "They had just started."

It was difficult not to roll his eyes despite the childishness of the motion and instead tipped his head to the side to meet Trowa's lips, lifting his hand to the back of his head, feeling the soft short hairs at the back of his neck. In that moment it became clear that the future of Winner Enterprises didn't matter to him. It didn't matter whether Victor Chase thought his "alternative" lifestyle was inappropriate or whether the board disapproved of his relationship with Trowa. He wouldn't give this up – a moment of peace. A moment that he'd fought for. A relationship that was built out of the wreckage of war.

Their lips parted and Quatre took a deep breath. "First, we go on vacation – a real vacation. And I promise… no cell phone."

"No Heero and Duo either."

"Just us. Promise."


End file.
